JOIN USA fading robot’s last few lessons
I am a robot. A rather primitive model, but a robot, nonetheless. I was created to be a spy in war but due to the wear and tear of my mechanism, I have been reduced to a rust bucket. My photographic memory bank has been broken for months now and one of my tracks has jammed, making a quick escape a difficult process. Either way, it’d be difficult to hide with all the screeching and creaking from my rusted machinery.
I have now been assigned the task of collecting fallen fruit to be used as provisions for the refugee camp. The camp was set up a few years ago on the outskirts of town after the civil war had escalated.
I was on my way back from having collected some apples and berries when I noticed a pedestal. Beside it lay pieces of what seemed to be a statue. The head, submerged in the sand, was missing a nose and nothing of the torso remained. It was hard to tell who it was or what it stood for.
As I turned away, I noticed my head felt a little wonky. I decided to stop by the mechanic’s place for a bit. The mechanic stayed a few kilometres away from the camp. He had been using a broken helicopter as a shelter.
“I’ve tightened a few loose bolts and oiled the joints. I can’t do much about the rust, but it should work fine now, give it a try,” he said. I craned my neck up to look at him. It was a stable motion without creaking. My lens recorded a short, haggard middle-aged man. He held a spanner in his greasy hands.
“Alright, I believe you owe me something,” he said. I nodded my head in agreement and handed over two apples. Nobody in the camp used money anymore. It had lost its value since most people didn’t have any. Instead, they exchanged goods. I continued back towards the camp. While passing by a lake, my jammed tracks came to a halt.
I stood under the evening sky, staring at the lake, sighing puffs of steam from my vents. This happens from time to time when my body runs too hot. A fuse had been installed to protect my fragile insides from melting. I just let it cool down for about 30 minutes before starting again.
Beyond the horizon, the sun had started to set. My body was glimmering with a tinge of orange owing to the sun’s rays. The golden ball slowly sank into the ripples, painting the skies a new shade with each passing moment, until it was dark. I regretted the lack of my photographic memory bank. Then again, I wonder if a photo could capture this moment’s fleeting beauty.
I started my engine again. I went down to the lake to refill my water tank. The moment I lowered my pipe into the lake, something flopped in the lake splashing the water towards me. It was a fish that had washed up close to the shore. The polluted water must have poisoned it. I backed away at once, but the damage was done. The water had infiltrated my fuel chamber and had extinguished the flame.
I hurried towards the camp powered by the burst of steam from the extinguished flame. There was no source of heat to boil the water. I left coal in the fuel chamber open to dry hoping that I could reignite it. I was moving at top speed to make the most out of the steam I have.
I had often scoffed at the humans desperately trying to survive despite their mortality. Now I see myself parroting their behaviour. Some water must have seeped into my lens too because I misjudged the distance and ran over a small rock. I almost toppled over.
The sudden movement sent the coals in the chamber flying out. As I watched the rugged black pearls tumble into the lake, I heard a loud crackle from the direction of the town. The sky was adorned with colourful and vibrant fireworks.
I found myself wondering, “If fireworks lasted for longer, for eternity, would they be so cherished?”. Once they cease to exist, they leave behind their beauty in the form of memory. “A memory which will eventually be forgotten,” I thought to myself, remembering the broken statue. The fireworks started fading, or perhaps it was my vision. I used my remaining steam to wheeze out a chuckle, and then I blacked out.